Mi esposo me dejó a mí y a nuestros seis hijos por un entrenador de fitness: ni siquiera tuve tiempo de pensar en la venganza antes de que el karma lo alcanzara

“I chose you.”

His jaw tensed.

Of course he had. The clothes. The message. This wasn’t spontaneous. It was planned.

“You were going to walk out,” I said slowly, “without even saying goodbye to the kids?”

“They’ll be fine. I’ll send money.”

My hand curled around the counter.

“Money,” I repeated. “Rose is going to ask where her pancakes are tomorrow. You think a direct deposit’s going to answer that?”

His jaw tensed.

He shook his head. “I’m not doing this.”

He turned, heading upstairs.

I followed.

Because there was no way I was letting him ghost a whole family from a hallway.

Our bedroom door was open. His suitcase was already halfway zipped, clothes folded too neatly for someone just deciding to leave.

“You were never going to tell me, were you?” I asked.

“I’m not doing this.”

“I was.”

“When? After the hotel? After the pictures were posted?”

He didn’t answer.

I stood in the doorway, shaking. “You could’ve just told me you were unhappy.”

“I am telling you,” he snapped. “I’m choosing my happiness.”